


Lance is sick

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Feels, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Whump, Langst, Major Character Injury, Sad Lance (Voltron), Self-Worth Issues, Space Dad Coran (Voltron), Stabbing, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-06-28 00:24:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15696426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Non-connected oneshots of Lance being sick, injured or sad (aka whump and angst) and others looking after him.So far we have: Strapped to a bomb/ Hostage/ Infection/ self worth issues/ fever/ drowning/ panic attack/ lips sewn shut / stabbedSuggestions are accepted, but no spoilers pls! (I'm on season 4)Enjoy!





	1. Strapped to a bomb

When Lance woke up, his vision was blurry and there was an unexplainable weight in his chest. Still only half conscious after being violently knocked out, he tried to move to get up from the floor, but he couldn't. When he managed to properly wake up... That when he realised what had happened. All the horrible truth about his situation.

Somebody had knocked him out by hitting him on the head and while he was unconscious he was taken down several floors to some unknown engine room. They were in an unexplored planet and he really, really couldn't remember how he got there. And then they took some chained to strap him to that metal artifact that was in front of him... Good god, was that a bomb? It really looked like a bomb.

It was a big round metal thing with a little screen in which some orange light appeared, showing some strange alien signs that kept changing. Numbers? Letters? And they were most certainly counting down with a small but clear beeping sound that hurt his very soul, pierce his already damaged and throbbing head. He started breathing quickly and felt extremely dizzy and nauseous.

But there was no time for that. He needed to find a way to get out of that jam, and fast.

He tried to undo the chains, but the more he manoeuvred, the more stuck he found himself. The chains were now too tight on his chest, on his back, on his legs. He couldn't do anything, as everything he tried seemed to make things worse. He tried to undo the links of one of the chains and only managed to get his hand stuck. Great. He sighed, trying not to cry at his shitty failure.

He called for the others, screamed for them with an edge of desperation in his voice, but nobody was coming. Lance realised then that whoever had done this to him, could have done even more terrible things for the others. And he hadn't been there for them, asleep while being tied to a bomb. Great job, Lance. His eyes were suddenly bright with unshed tears, and he cursed himself.

Someone tougher like Shiro or Keith would have already thought of half a dozen ways to get out of that situation without endangering anyone else. They would be cool and collected, level headed, and would figure out a way to communicate with the others, deactivate the bomb and maybe even use the explosive device to get information about their enemies. Who they were, what was it that they wanted, why they had chosen this strategy. Valuable information.

And someone smarter like Pidge (who knew so much about everything, had learnt some Altean and happened to be an expert on technology) or Hunk (who was engineer and knew his way around a machine) would probably understand that timer – would know how much time he had, and probably would also know what type of bomb this was and all the ways to stop it. They would figure out ways to escape because they were intelligent.

But him? What good was him? He was there because he had decent instinct and a tendency for reckless bravery, but how could that help in the situation he was now? He could barely think because of the blow to his head and any brave stunt he could try would only put himself and others in more danger... He would only make things worse. A couple of tears made their way down his cheeks as he realised these may be the last minutes he had to live.

A cry baby, on top of everything. Stupid whiny Lance.

He should have know better. He should have been better.

His head was pounding and the whole room was spinning, despite him not having moved an inch. He tried to focus on the bomb, to try to understand it, but it was tough for his hurt head and he felt even more stupid with every tick in which he didn't know what to do.

He went back to his chains and suddenly heard familiar voices from the entrance of the room.

“Lance! Are you okay?”

“Get away” he said, his voice scratchy and broken and wrong “there's a bomb.”

They came in anyways, ignoring Lance's frantic pleas for them to get away as fast as possible. It was just Keith and Pidge, but at least they looked all right.

“Oh, no” Keith whispered when he saw the chains, his expression somber. “We have to set him free, now.”

Pidge looked at the bomb and thought of something.

“I think I have something to stop that bomb in my lion. I am going to run faster than lightning, Lance, don't you worry. We will solve this.”

Keith was trying to undo the chains and, defeated, sighed when he realised he was getting nowhere.

“Please go away.”

“I won't leave you here.”

“This thing could go off at any time. The universe needs you.”

“Not just me.”

“Ketih, please... You have to go... I can't... kill you too....”

Somewhere on another corridor, Pidge was running as if the very integrity of the universe depending on her being fast. She wouldn't bear it if they lost Lance because she'd been too slow. And what if she was wrong? What if her multi-deactivator didn't work for that specific bomb? Better not to think about it. Because if she didn't manage it... Then Lance's bloodied face and his too bright eyes pleading them to go away would haunt her forever.

And what would they do without Lance? How would they cope when all the news were grim and they had no one one to joke around? Who would cheer them up? Who would push to do the right thing without overthinking it? She may be the brains of the team, but Lance was the heart, the one that felt things most deeply. And they couldn't live without a heart – or maybe they could, but Pidge didn't want to find out.

Keith was trying to keep calm, but despite his cool demeanor the fact was that he couldn't stop his hands from shaking. The stakes were too high this time.

“Please go” Lance kept saying. “You're too important.”

“... So are you.”

Keith was kind of angry at Lance's readiness to give up his own life. Sure there were times when they didn't get along, but Lance was an important part of the team, and everyone would be devastated if they lost him, including himself.

But the device was too complicated for Keith to figure out, full of traps and tricks and he didn't think he could stop before the timer stopped and it went off. A part of Keith wondered if he should do what Lance was asking and find a safe place. Maybe that was the right choice, for the fight, for Voltron, for the universe. One paladin was possible to replace but two at the same time? The team would be nothing but a shadow without the both of them.

Yet, even if getting away was the most logical choice, for the whole fight for the good of the universe and Lance was begging him to do it, still he couldn't leave. One look at Lance's bright sad eyes and he was lost. He couldn't leave him there, injured and teary, to die a terrible death. Whatever their differences Lance was a partner, a friend and someone that Keith was quite sure would give his life to save any of his teammates. He couldn't, wouldn't fail him.

“I'm not leaving, Lance, so you can stop wasting your energy trying to get me to go away.”

They had to focus on untying Lance from the bomb: the sooner the better. Never think about what would happen if they didn't – simply don't. The device was not Galra or Altean, and they had no reference as to what its origin could be. Still, there was something ticking inside, and it seemed to be using some type of electricity or similar energy to be powered.

Keith could have used Hunk's expertise on this... But no, things would get too emotional. They would only tell Hunk once they'd reached the happy end of the whole thing.

It would probably be easier to get Lance away than stop the bomb. Keith examined the chains but there was something.. alive in them. Something that attacked the limbs as they moved, as they struggled to get away. And then Lance's posture slumped and he seemed to have collapsed and Keith panicked.

“Lance?!”

“What if I... this thing gets tighter when I fight, right? So maybe, if I fake faint...”

“It will think it doesn't need to be tight and loosen, make it easier for me to take it off you! Yes, it could work.”

It was a longshot and they knew it, but it was certainly worth a try. It was a bit scary seeing Lance all lifeless in such a dire situation, what with half his face covered in blood, his breathing decreased so much and the bomb still kicking, but it was hope too. And somehow, despite everything... it was working. Slowly and carefully, with all the care in the world....

“Found it!”

Pidge was back, and managed to stop the countdown with the gizmo she brought. They all breathed.

“Lance! You can stop fake fainting, look, the bomb stopped. Lance?”

But Lance was passed out, for real this time, the combined effect of his head injury, his exhaustion and the fact the he'd closed his eyes acting up. He was boneless and limp as the other two finally managed to untie him from the bomb, unconscious still as they took him to the infirmary of that place while they waited for the castle to come find them. They were all glad that the bomb hadn't gone off, but worried about Lance's head injury. And if he was honest, Keith was worried about other things too, like how easily the other boy had given up his life, practically not allowing them to try and helping, because they were too important (as opposed to him, who wasn't?).

Lance always acted so confident that it could be hard to see beyond the jokes and the antics sometimes. So he stayed until Lance woke up, even sleeping on the bedside.

When Lance woke up again, the world hadn't exploded. It was a good feeling.

“We okay?” He said, slurring the words a bit.

“Yeah, we're okay. At least I am, you have a concussion from that blow.”

Keith said, and he seemed less mean than usual.

“Ugh, figures. And no pain medication in this planet, huh?”

“Sorry.”

Lance sighed.

“No, I am sorry. I was useless back there...” He drew a small smile. “Just the same stupid old Lance.” Normally, he wouldn't be so open, much less with Keith (he had to be cooler, he had to be more whole, he had to win, or at least keep up...)

“You managed to find a way to get out with a concussion, Lance. Don't sell yourself so short.”

Lance couldn't understand. Was that a compliment?

“You have skills some of us don't have. You're important, and your smart in your own way, too. Being smart is not just understanding alien languages, it's also knowing when to fake-faint.”

It was a nice sentiment... but there was still a lot of issues that had to be worked on.

… Sometime later.

Now was the time for rest, for sleeping and for reassurances.

Lots of reassurances.

 


	2. Hostage (miscommunication)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Shi in chapter one

“Guys, I have a bad feeling about this”

Lance said, even if he knew it was useless to voice his thoughts. The plan was clear they were going to get into that enemy base from five different places, gather some information from the hallways they've entered, make their way to the centre, get the info and then sneak back in their lions and go back to the castle. But he felt that he was being watched, so all that sneakiness would be... well, not sneaky. They may be getting in a trap.

“Lance I told you, the plan is what it is, and it needs all of us to work together or we'll fail. So you put your feelings aside, good or bad, and follow the instructions, all right? If one of us goes rogue the whole thing falls apart.”

“Yeah, but...”

“No buts. You do what you're told and you follow my lead.”

Shiro realised that maybe he was being too harsh, but he felt he needed to be. The rest of the paladins were young and independent, at an age when they had lost of ideas and always thought they were right. But the stakes were too high to let them experiment, and it was his job as both the team leader and the oldest paladin to set some ground rules and make sure the others followed them.

Both Keith and Lance were a bit difficult in that regard, had a tendency towards rebellion, towards simply doing their own thing. And sometimes it was good that they did, sometimes they found valuable information, but it was a risk that couldn't be taken anymore, a trend that needed to stop. They needed to be a well-oiled machine, and not one in which parts suddenly dropped and started walking their own way.

Like in that moment.

“Okay, you guys ready for phase two?”

Everyone voiced their affirmation, except for the blue paladin.

“Lance? Lance, come in! LANCE!”

But there was no answer, and Shiro was really angry.

“I can't believe he just turned off his comms to go on his own when I specifically told him not to!”

“Maybe his comms are not working for some reason?” Hunk suggested, feeling the need to speak up for his buddy, since he wasn't there to defend himself.

“They were ok when we left, I checked.” Pidge said. “Nothing shot of a minor explosion could have got them to stop working.”

“I can't believe that he would put the whole operation in danger just because he had a bad feeling.” Keith said, mirroring Shiro's anger.

“Ok, we continue as planned. If Lance doesn't show up at the meeting point we'll try to make due with what we have. And then I must have some words with Lance.”

He tried to control his anger, put his feelings aside, but.... They needed to work as a team, they needed to be one – that was the whole point of Voltron! And these kids kept running off, going away, deciding that they were better off on their own. And without saying anything! Why couldn't they realise how important it was to stick together, to follow the game plan? Was it so hard to understand that one reckless choice put everyone in danger? How many missions had to go wrong until they learnt that lesson? How much did they have to lose until they worked better together?

The others were a bit angry too except for Hunk, who was more worried than angry. What if something had happened to Lance and that was why he wasn't answering? He did say he had a bad feeling, and Lance had always had good instincts. It was possible that his bad feeling and the sudden stop in communication were connected, and if the others weren't so angry or if it was someone else, like him, they would consider it.

But the others were so convinced... and they make a compelling case, Lance had probably decided he didn't want to follow orders and went off on his own. He could be impulsive like that, and it was true that he sometimes didn't realise the danger he put himself in, and.... ok. Maybe there was no reason to worry and he was just trying to show off, get the upper hand, try to upstage Keith and the others. Hunk sighed, and took was he was supposed to. Was it him or was everything being too easy?

As he was approaching the centre, he ran into Pidge, who was happy to have found what she was supposed to and was only concerned about the scalding they were all going to get if Lance didn't show up about being a team and working together and what not.

But despite what the others may have thought, Lance was there, he was there all right.

Only half conscious bleeding badly from a deep bleeding wound from a blast in his chest and another one in his stomach, wheezing because his lungs had been affected and barely able to keep up straight with a gun under his chin. He was there – yes, he was. So were the enemy commanders, smiling.

“Lance...” Shiro whispered realising just how absolutely wrong he'd been. It would take a minor explosion for the comms to stop working, Pidge had said – and that was exactly what had happened. Lance had been in an explosion and was badly injured and being held hostage by enemy forces.

“This was the only one that realised what was happening. Tried to fight back, but was terribly outnumbered, the poor blue Paladin. Now I am going to ask you to leave your weapons and everything that you took on the floor or I will be forced to end this boy's suffering.” And he cocked the gun on Lance's neck, eliciting a small whimper.

Shit. If they didn't obey, Lance would die. If they obeyed and the enemy didn't need him fro anything else, Lance would die. If they decided to see it as a distraction, Lance could die. And he would die in terrible pain, if his wheezing and tear tracks on the dried blood were any indication. The paladins started to lay their weapons down, not wanting to jeopardize Lance's life any further.

Keith doubted for a moment, but hearing Lance wheeze gave him no choice. They had fallen into a trap, all for not listening to their partner. And now... How were they going to get out? How could they fix this terribly screwed up situation and get back to the castle with all of them whole?

In the end, it was creative thinking that saved them. There was something that looked like a smoke bomb in one of the boxes Pidge had retrieved and she decided to risk it. In the confusion, they managed to knock out most of the bad guys and retrieve Lance.

Now Shiro was carrying the boy bridal style as he ran towards his lion. Getting his armour stained with Lance's blood jostling all of his injuries. He tried to fight back, but he was outnumbered, they had said. While trying to become a unit they left Lance alone, abandoned to his luck. They had ignored him, they had forsaken and it was not the team or the fight that paying, just Lance. Paying for mistakes that weren't even his own.

Shiro was afraid that with all that blood they would slip, was afraid that he wouldn't be fast enough... Lance's unfocused eyes, only open half the time, locked on him and in between horrible cough and wheezing, he got some words out:

“Couldn't... warn you...”

Oh. He was beating himself p for not having been able to pass the message. This was absolutely horrible.

“Don't worry, we're getting out.”

Even if their plan only consisted on running like a bat of hell until their lions and to safety. Still, sometimes the simplest of the ideas are the ones that work best. By the time they reached the castle, Lance had stopped wheezing, but nobody thought that was a good sign.

The healing pod data told them that Lance had had a punctured lung, six broken ribs and internal bleeding in his lower abdomen, apart from having lost practically all the blood that was possible to lose and still be compatible with life. It would be long until he was able to get out of there.

Hunk was full on crying and Shiro...

When the others left to their bed, regret washed all over him. He knocked his head on the pod, and muttered some strangled sorrys. But Lance couldn't hear that, could he? He heard all of the criticisms, all the mistrust, never the apology.

“I'm so so sorry.”

 


	3. Infection

Hunk was worried.

Some would be say that he was always worried, always afraid, always concerned about what was going to happen. He liked to think himself cautious, prudent more than anything else. And what the hell someone needed to worry about the little things.

Allura and Keith and Shiro would always be there to worry about the fate of the universe, defeating Zarkon and making the most of their weapons, training, being the best paladin they could be, making sure that the fight was won... And Pidge would always worry about her family, same as him. But who was there to worry about whether people ate or slept? Who was there to worry about people being sad or under the weather?

He had to, it was his job.

And lately, he was worried about Lance. He was the guy he spent more time with, his best friend, and not to play favourites but kind of his favourite person in the ship. Sure, the others were like his family now too, but Lance had been there since he was little, had supported and appreciated him for years, had helped him when he hesitated and always had his back. Truly, Hunk couldn't even imagine where he would be without Lance. And he didn't want to.

He loved Lance's constant chatter, he loved his mood and high spirit, that balanced his own tendency towards thinking always the worst. Lance had the gift of making others feel happy, and optimistic and confident even when he wasn't feeling so himself. It was something rare and precious, and something Hunk reminded himself not to take for granted. Like all things, it needed effort. And like all things, it had a price.

The last couple of weeks, since they came back from a mission in an odd planet with purple grass, Lance had been less loud, less outspoken, less humorous... less himself. And of course Hunk had worried, and asked one million times if something was wrong, if he was okay. And Lance had said that of course he was okay, and tried to hide whatever was bothering him better. It was terrible.

He tried to guess what could be wrong, but it could be a number of things. Lance was more fragile than he appeared (bad words about him affected him and stayed with him a long time, proving that he didn't truly think himself as awesome as one would think) and joining Voltron hadn't improved his problems much.

There was the problem of how much he missed home and his family: after always being surrounded by people that talked so much and were very vocal about their affection being in a cold quiet place like a spaceship... And he felt inadequate sometimes too, because he wasn't an academic star, and there were many of these space things he didn't understand.

But Lance also had a tendency to feel less than the rest of them, dumber, weaker, less important, so he hid, didn't say anything and hoped everything would turn out ok. Which made it much more difficult to know what was wrong with him. When they were in the garrison they talked more, hell, they had no secrets from each other, spent most of their waking time together. Hunk missed those days. Things were simpler, and Lance smiled more.

Now he didn't know what was going on in his best friend's head half the time.

One day he caught Lance with his hand in his stomach and hi eyes closed as if in pain. And he did look paler and more tired than usual, didn't he? Maybe his distress was physical and he was sick and not sad. Or maybe he was both.

“Lance?”

His friend's hand flew from where he was and there was suddenly a smile plastered on his face, any sign of distress long gone. He was a good actor.

“Oh, hey, Hunk. What's up?”

But not good enough to fool Hunk, who had known him nearly his whole life.

“You feeling good? Is your stomach hurting? Because Allura and Coran have a pill like thing for that, you can ask them.”

“Nah, I'm fine. You need not worry, my friend. Anyways you remember that blue jacket I had when I was a kid, that I wore every dauy?, well, I was thinking that maybe we could...”

And just like that, he changed the subject and for a while Hunk forgot what he saw. Even when he remembered, he decided that it was probably nothing and if Lance said he was fine then he probably was fine. He had to trust the guy, like he trusted him with mission things. Lance didn't let them down, didn't run away, didn't lie.

Still, some part of him was really worried that something really bad was going on with Lance, and he asked him to go to the infirmary, but Lance said that there was no need, but thanks for the concern it's nice to know, and suddenly he had changed the subject again and they were talking about Hunk's mum awesome stew with the potatoes and everything.... No, no wrong!

He tried to be less worried the next week, and although Lance seemed to have gained some his life back, but Hunk couldn't help suspecting that it was an act for his benefit. Maybe he was being too paranoid, maybe he worried too much. Hunk had been accused of that before, and maybe those people were right.

The next week Lance barely ate (pretended to eat but didn't) and Hunk caught him with his hand on his stomach a couple of times, so he managed to convince to go to the infirmary. According to medical gadgets there, nothing was wrong with Lance, he wasn't sick. So really, he had been worrying all that time for nothing? Had Hunk read too much on a moody couple of weeks and a casual gesture of his friend? Science seemed to think so.

Then why couldn't he shake off the feeling that something was wrong?

Hunk tried to talk to the others, but it didn't help much. Pidge said that if the result said he was okay, then he was okay; Allura basically told him that Lance had to toughen up and Keith was so lost in his own emotional turmoil that practically ignored him. Everyone told him the same thing: that he had no reason to worry.

Lance was looking tired, and not eating, and he thought he heard him retching one time too (he could recognise the sound quite well, thanks to his won experience) but he had no reason to worry. And yet, he worried. With good reason, sadly.

One day they were talking about their next mission when Lance's whole face changed. He started breathing too loudly and he held on to his stomach, moving around uncomfortably. And then, before anyone asked him about it, he doubled over and started screaming in pain.

“Lance!”

Everyone was really scared, but managed to keep themselves together long enough to pick p Lance from the floor, where he was still doubled over, face in a grimace of pain.

When Shiro asked him about the pain Lance said it was like “someone stabbing him on the inside with a sword on fire”. He was made a ball on an infirmary bed, and nobody knew too much what to do. Lance's eyes were shining, and no one was comforting him. This was wrong.

The healing pods couldn't find anything wrong with him, so they couldn't fix it. Great. Grand.

Hunk knelt near the bed, and gently tapped his shoulder, telling him that “it would be okay, he'd be fixed in no time”. Oh, how Hunk wished he could believe his own words. He told the others that Lance had started feeling odd after the planet with the purple grass, and they reclaibrated the machines to include illnesses from those planets.

And then the readings changed. The pod found an infection, one that had started in the stomach but spread through the bloodstream to his whole body. That was why Lance was so cold, why he was shivering, why he was breathing funny – sepsis, infection of the blood. He had passed out by the time they put him in the pod, and it was heartbreaking. Lance looked so young, so vulnerable, so... little despite how tall he was.

“Why didn't he tell us if he was sick?” Allura asked, not understanding anything.

Hunk exploded.

“Because he keeps trying to live up to you all, even if it hurts him! Because every time he's less than perfect you call him dumb, or reckless, or weak, or you tell him that he needs to put the battle first. He tries, and tries and tries and gives himself up but he never feels good enough.” It was hurting Hunk saying these things, but he knew Lance felt that way. “And you guys don't seem to care too much about his wellbeing, so why make himself look weak to receive indifference?”

The crowd was stunned into silence. Shiro was the first to break it.

“I guess we take Lance being okay for granted, don't we?”

“It's just...” Pidge continued “he's so always so sunny, and loud, it's difficult to imagine he may be hurting under all that.”

“Well, he is sometimes. We're all human, we all hurt, and Lance is a very sensitive guy. And he feels nobody is worried about him... he won't want to bother you.”

“Let's bow then to all worry about Lance more, so that something like this may not happen again.” Coran announced.

Hunk half smiled. It would be nice if he wasn't alone in worrying about Lance.

It would be nice if, for once, they were there to ease his pain.

 


	4. Self-worth issues

Lance knew somehow (maybe because he had decided it) that he wasn't going to live till reaching his old age.

When he'd been in the garrison and before that, when he'd been living with his family he had imagined himself in his forties or fifties, as some sort of silver haired legend/hero, a pilot that everyone knew and admired, who had a great deal of adventures behind him and many more to come. He imagined himself older, maybe with a bunch of kids of his own, and it was a nice idea.

But since he became a paladin of Voltron he realised that his dream was probably never going to become a reality. He'd lived a bunch near-death experiences already, and it seemed that many more were coming. Eventually one of them would to be full on death and not just near death. Besides, it someone had to go, better than him than anyone more important, right?

He may not be smartest, bravest, strongest or best part of Voltron and he may not be able to live to be a legend/hero, but he could go heroically, he could go helping the others, so that at least he could live a nice memory, something legendary/heroic to remember him by. A good, selfless, helpful death. He never had trouble putting himself in the line of fire to protect others, and being a shield seemed like a good way to go, a good goodbye.

His last thoughts would be that thanks to his pain and sacrifice, someone else was safe. It was a pleasant, calming plan for the future.

Of course, he hadn't talked about this with anyone – but there weren't a lot of people that he could talk to about non-Voltron just-Lance issues. Maybe Hunk would care, but he wouldn't like the plan, would ask him to please think of another plan where he didn't die young, at least not if he could help it. He was a nice guy, but only cared for him because they were friends since forever. If he wasn't, he would see that this was the right thing to do.

So he didn't say anything, but someone noticed. Really, the hard thing seemed to not notice with how often Lance ended up in healing pods lately, and how many more times compared with the others. It was because when the others were in danger, Lance was there to take the hit. And it was something noble of him, courageous and praiseworthy, but had an undertone of self-harm, and lack of self-worth that was deeply concerning.

They didn't see it, the other paladins. This was how Lance was, his personality, and it was good to know that the boy had their backs in the ran into a trouble they couldn't solve. Maybe they didn't realise that if things continued like this they would lose Lance forever... and probably sooner rather than later.

In this occasion, Lance's had heart had stopped after receiving a blast receiving a blast in the chest while getting Keith out of the way. He'd also sustained injuries on his legs and head, and had to be revived and put on the pod for nearly three whole days. When he finally woke up, still quite fuzzy and dizzy, only Coran was there to greet him.

Good, he could use this one on one time to have a few words with the paladin about his practically suicidal behaviour of the last few weeks.

Coran prepared some food for the boy and some for himself, so that they would be having dinner together, and his conversing with him would be less conspicuous. Or something.

“So, how are you feeling, lad?”

“Starved! But much more better, thanks. Those pods are miracle workers.”

“They almost didn't work, we were nearly too far gone for them to work.” Coran said, with concern in his eyes. “It was very brave what you did, but we almost lost you. Again.”

Lance kept looking at his food, not knowing how to answer to Coran's sudden interest.

“Nah, just doing my job, you know?”

“Getting hurt every time someone is in danger is not part of your job, lad. Helping them, yes, but you don't need to a human shield for everyone. It's too dangerous.”

Lance's eyes went down, an air of sadness unusual in them.

“Perhaps if I was smarter I would know other better ways, to help them...” He smiled then, trying to sound lighter. “But this all dumb old Lance can provide, sorry!”

Damn, this was not going the way Coran intended, but it was sadly confirming his suspicion's that Lance was at least partially putting himself on danger in purpose, because he saw himself as the least important member of their team. It was heartbreaking.

Also, he was going to have some words with the other about calling Lance dumb, and remember himself too to point out when he did something smart. They all may mean it as a joke, but it was affecting Lance more than he let on, and it didn't feel fair.)

“I'm sure you can think of many other ways to help, Lance... This... may be sound a bit blunt, but I fear I the circumstances call for some bluntness... Do you want to die?”

The boy left his spoon on the table, conflicted blue eyes looking up finally.

“It's not so much that I want to die... But it feels right, you know? You guys will get someone better, and I'll stop being this... burden. I'll stop screwing up and help someone else, win-win situation.”

“It doesn't feel right to me. Nothing that includes you getting hurt or worse feels right. I... and I'm sure the others too, we don't like seeing you hurt, and if you died out there... It would not be a relief because we were getting someone better. It would be a tragedy, Lance.”

The boy scoffed, and laughed.

“Tragedy? Isn't that a bit much?”

“Hey, look at me, Lance. You are as important for this team as any of others. You have been with us all this time, never faltering and we owe many of our victories to your hard work. You should know what a valiant, bright and kind-hearted person if you are, but if you don't, then I will tell you. You are one of the most special, interesting and warm people I've ever met, and it hurts when you insult yourself, hurts seeing you give your life away so easily.”

Lance's lower lip was trembling, his eyes bright.

“You mean that?”

“I absolutely do, lad. And if you ever feel like anything less than that, you don't need to tell the others if you don't want to, but do come to me, will you?”

Lance got up from his chair and hugged the other man. Coran just smiled, caressing the boy's head. They still had a long way to go, but he was glad they talked.

Now came the hard part – convincing Lance that giving himself up on the first opportunity was not the right thing. Selflessness was a core trait of Lance's, but if they wanted to keep their smiley, fun boy some things would need to change.

Still, in that moment, in that embrace, things were good.

Things were better.

 

 


	5. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Shi in chap 4 - thanks a lot for your comments!!! They mean a lot, it's the first time I write for this fandom so i really want to hear from you :) :) Like Shi, you can prompt things in the comments or in my tumblr claracivry
> 
> Hope you enjoy and thanks for giving me a chance! Happy reading!

This was the fifth day in a row that Lance woke up feeling like shit. His head seemed to want to murder, sometimes spinning, sometimes throbbing and pulsating, but always bothering him too much. Not only did his head hurt, but also his limbs were too heavy, so much that just the act of moving seemed pure torture. He wanted to crawl into ahole and die, but couldn't. Ugh, repsonsibilities.

They had just received some information about an arsenal base of Zarkon's, a whole spaceship filled only with the most destructive weaponry. And apparently it had a weak spot they could exploit, so that they would neutralise all of those weapon and Zarkon would lose a lot of his fire-power, especially the things he meant to use in his next attack. But they needed to act quickly, before Zarkon's forces realised that they had that info and set up a trap for them.

No time for complaining.

Besides, Lance had messed up in their last mission and he was dying (hopefully not literally) to make up for it. He'd be the greatest, the greatest soldier, the greatest sharpshooter. Maybe if he was the perfect soldier in this mission the others wouldn't be annoyed with him and remember why they kept him around. But he had to be there.

So he pushed through his pain and how horrible he felt and went to clean himself, make himself presentable for the mission. Nothing was wrong, it was a tiny unimportant headache that wouldn't stop him, couldn't stop him. He looked a but paler than usual, an odd flush in his cheeks, but he didn't think anyone would notice.

(Nobody did, and it was slightly disheartening)

He offered himself to be Pidge's escort as she went to he base: an easy enough mission where he only had to have a partner's back, something he did practically by instinct, without having to think too much. Which was a good thing because hurt even worse, even if Lance had thought that wasn't possible.

He sighed, exhausted, before putting on his “everything is great and I'm my usual funny self” mask. Today was gonna be a hard day to keep it, but Lance was a good actor.

He'd been boiling in the trip, all his body telling him that it was too hot, his head begging him to take off the helmet. Now that he had it off and they were on the base, he was suddenly too cold. He made a comment about how it felt like they were in a freezer and Pidge looked at him as if he were crazy, never realising why her friend was so cold.

They got to the control centre and Pidge started working on them, hoping what she thought would rearrange the systems of the place so that it would self destruct. It was a clever thing not to allow your enemies to use the shipment, but could could be used against them.

Lance was guarding the door and was blessedly quiet. She'd been hesitant to accept him as her escort, mostly because he talked a lot and she needed silence for what she had to do. But he'd been good, neutralising some bots and sentinels that were coming their way and being mostly silent.

That is, until she was almost finished and a shout came from the door.

“Someone's coming!”

But there was no presence on her sensors, and see couldn't see anyone or hear anything.

“Is this your idea of a joke? Because it's not funny, Lance! Now please be quiet while I finish this, ok?”

And he complied, allowing her to finish everything. As she was admiring her work, a very small low voice (which was a bit scary, Lance didn't usually sound that soft) came and said:

“Pidge, I'm not... not feeling so...”

Before he even finished his sentence, Lance had collapsed on the floor, boneless, lifeless.

Pidge's eyes widened to unprecedented proportions and after a moment frozen, she raced to her friend. He was unconscious, so she tapped his cheek, hoping for some reaction – and noted with horror that he was burning up, a cold sweat covering his face and neck. A he was passed out, not responding to her, his eyes closed, his body slack.

“Lance? Lance come on, wake up, don't scare me like this.”

It all made sense now, why he was quieter than usual, his comment about being cold, and the people he saw... oh god, could the fever be so bad that he had hallucinated them?

He opened his eyes a bit, but the eyes unfocused, too bright, confused, the fever flush more pronounced now.

“Hey, hey, try to stay awake, ok? Stay with me, come on, we need to get out of here.”

Lance half smiled.

“Hermanita... No te preocupes, estoy bien. Puedo.... cuidar de ti. Estoy bien.”

She didn't know what that meant, but she had a notion that he didn't realise who he was with. This was bad. H ehad tried to get up but collasped again, letting out a small moan. How hadn't she realised that he was thiis sick? The pallor, how subdued he was, the comments, his slightly uncoordinated walk... But none of them had seen it, none of them had paid enough attention to him and Lance had been burning up, so delirious that he thought someone was coming for them, so delirious he'd confused her with some family member.

She managed to get him on a standing position (which hadn't been easy, because he was very tall and very confused, racked with full body shivers way too often.

“Can you walk back?”

“Pidge?” He recognised her! That was good, right? “Are you going to leave me here? Please, I'll be better, please, Pidge...”

“Lance, no one is abandoning you.” She sighed. “Hunk, can you come here? Lance collapsed and is very sick, I need your help bringing him back.”

“I'll be there before you can say quiznack”

Lance's eyes were closing again, and Pidge was worried. Loss of consciousness was a very sign (along with seizures, oh my god, what if he started seizing! She would panic! Lance please be okaaay). She tried to keep him awake with conversation, but didn't know what to say.

“I'm sorry I didn't realise before, I'm sorry I shut you up. I should have noticed before... I am supposed to be smart one, aren't I? And you've been off the whole week, you were sick back then too?”

“No te preocupes, Pidge. Nunca te preocupes por Lance – yo cuido de vosotros, estoy bien. Siempre... estoy bien.”

“I don't know what you're saying, Lance, bt you keep talking okay? Stay awake. I wish I had some ice, or something for you...” She put her hand in his brow again, and it was so terribly hot. “I'm sorry, again, but Hunk will be here in no time and we'll get you to the infirmary, kay?”

“...Cold.”

How could he be cold with that fever? Pidge sighed, every minute a torture. Lance looked so young, so small, so ill... She understood why he hadn't said anything, lately everyone had been quite hard on him, and he'd wanted to prove he was still important, still good for the team... But not quite like this, Lance.

Still, he had managed complete most of the mission, getting the bots, having her back and generally looking as if he was perfectly okay. She couldn't help bu feel some admiration for her team mate, reliable and helpful even when he was sick with a dangerously high fever. That was some really considerable resilience and motivation.

Hunk came not much later, running like Pidge had been seen him before.

“How is he?”

“He's quite out of it and still burning up. I've tried to keep him awake, but it comes and goes, and sometimes he speaks Spanish, I think he's confusing me for a sister of his...”

Hunk took the sick boy in his arms, deeply concerned.

“Buddy, you there?”

Lance smiled.

“Hunk! Pidge, have you met Hunk? He's my bestest friend. He won't leave here abandoned, that's good.”

Hunk started walking back to the castle, a lump in his throat. Seeing Lance like this, so sick, but still smiling at them... It pulled at his heartstrings.

“Of course I won't, buddy. I'll never abandon you.”

“Me neither” Pidge said.

And that was a bow they promised to keep.

 


	6. Drown

They were fighting near a deep enormous lake of near transparent purplish water, and it was getting harder and harder to see what was going on. By the time finished fighting against the aliens coming his way, Keith was out of breath and he'd lost sight of Lance, who had been fighting along with him. He'd actually had been a bit pissed that Lance hadn't helped him more, but now he realised that the other paladin could have been in trouble.

Badly injured or knocked out somewhere. Taken prisoner maybe, or gased, or who knew what. Maybe he'd been disarmed and taken, maybe.... Keith went to the place where he'd seen the other boy for the last time, near the edge of the lake, and saw traces of blood. Red blood, unlike the aliens blue one. And the bloodied tracks ended...

_Oh no. Oh no no no no._

There was a long lean shadow sinking further and deeper into the lake pale see-through water. And Keith understood then what had happened: someone had shot Lance and then he'd fallen into the lake. There was blood still oozing from the shadow underwater, a shadow that got further with each passing second. Keith realised with with dread Lance may be dead already, drowned in that stupid lake while caught his breath and fought on his own.

_No, please, no._

After the second in which he was frozen in fear, Keith threw himself in the lake, and swam desperately downwards, trying no to think about how far Lance was, how much blood was in the water (massive blood loss – massive blood loss) and about still he seemed to be. Don't think, just get to him, and take him back to the surface, out of the water. Out of danger.

He managed to get to the injured boy, and swimming back up with an unconscious boy in two was not easy, but Keith managed that too. Feeling at the same too slow and too brutal, Keith got his friend out of the water, where he was to see how horrible the other paladin looked. Pale as death, with a still bleeding wound on his side, cold to the touch.

_Don't think about it, Keith, just save him. He needs you. Don't fail him now._

Keith quickly took out the upper part of Lance's armour, and put his ear to his chest to see if he was still breathing, if he was moving any air. It was agony, every second that he was met with silence. Lance was not breathing, his lungs probably full of water... So many times he had wished that Lance would just stay quiet and now that he was... Now that he was quiet, Keith wanted to ravage and destroy this whole planet for hurting his friend. The thought of not hearing Lance's voice again felt unbearable.

_Focus. Save him. Revive him. Don't let him go like this._

And so he started the CPR, using all that he knew about it. Exhaling how own breath into Lance's way too cold mouth, compressing his chest (one, two, three, strong enough to move enough, but no so much you break a rib) rhythmically, hoping, trying, agonising. But there... there was no change, no sudden coughing, no open eyes. Lance remained there where Keith had lain him on the floor, drenched and pale and bloody like some kind of underwater angel.

And silent – oh, so silent.

Keith didn't give up, couldn't. He continued with the mouth to mouth, exhaling even more air, and being more forceful with the compressions. It couldn't end like this, they couldn't lose someone so important over a bad injury near a lake.

Keith felt a wave of regret wash over him. Lance had saved their asses before, but he had ignored him completely today, hadn't thought to check up on him. Because he was an aloof asshole , Lance could die today. If he had check on him more, if he had seen that he'd fallen on the water before, he would have been able to get him out earlier, maybe CPR wouldn't have been needed, and they would be laughing about the whole thing now.

Keith also remembered every mean comment, every time he treated Lance poorly, every insult and every condescending look. Every time he'd told Lance he didn't trust on him not screwing up, every dismissive word he'd said, and it was like daggers on his chest. Why did he have to be like that? Lance hadn't deserved to be questioned like that, to be put down by him or anyone else. How he wished he could take it all back, but now it was probably too late, and Lance would go thinking that...

By the third time he tried to breathe some life into his friend, Keith was crying, losing hope that this would work. He continued the compressions but nothing happened – Lance remained too cold, too silent, unmoving him and his stupid too-late repentance. He kept at it, and kept at it, and kept at it, trying to forget everything he could and should have done better, everything they would lose, everything they would miss.

And finally, when Keith had already given up, there was movement, there was some coughing and retching water, and Lance's eyes finally opened. They were bloodshot and unfocused, but they were most beautiful sight in the world for Keith.

He breathed, relieved, a huge weight lifting itself form his shoulders. They still had to get out of that place, they still had to do many things to get to safety and Lance had a wound that needed tending, but as they say, where there's life there's hope. Now he would have a chance to undo the damage, take back the bad words, stop making him the butt of jokes... Be better to his friend.

The first thing Lance saw after waking up was a blurry image of what looked like Keith, drenched to the and teary-eyed, uncharacteristically emotional looking, so he asked, in a raspy low voice:

“You okay?”

“I am now”

 


	7. Panic attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by winterspirit13 in chapter 5. Became more PTSD than I expected, but I hope you enjoy!!

Lance had been gone for three whole days taken prisoner – tried to be used as a source of information. They did... spells on him and when that didn't work, they changed to more manual ways of making him talk. They were... very hands-on. The damage they inflicted wasn't all that bad, mostly things that healed fairly quickly, but their hands were always on him. For nearly three days, there was a stranger touching him, so that he would be hurt.

When he came back, he didn't want to look any different – didn't want anyone to suspect that he was being controlled by someone (that could lead to an examination and he didn't think he could deal with that in that moment) or that he was weak. The others had gone through worse stuff, he had no place to complain when his ordeal had only been three days and had ended positively. So he didn't say anything, and just.... subconsciously avoided closeness with the others.

The team was fairly surprised seeing how well Lance was doing after being kept prisoner for three days, but were happy nothing else was wrong. So yes, despite his goofy attitude Lance was a resilient guy – that was good, something that could be helpful for the team. They kept training, answering distress calls, going on missions. They bought the act.

Despite it, and despite his very commendable resilience, Lance had some limits, like the rest of them. And because he didn't let himself be weak, express the angst and anxiety all the things he'd lived cause him, it all built inside him. Little by little, day by day it started causing some side-effects, that he also kept to himself. It started with the most vivid nightmares, about being a prisoner again, about everyone, feeling their hands on his neck, as they grabbed and choked... Then some tremors and headaches, nothing too serious, but enough for his jokes to diminish, for his level of energy to lower. And in one terrible occasion some weeks, a panic attack in front of all the others.

It had been a fairly innocent situation, they were together looking at some blueprints of some place they had get into and someone touched his back and Lance just jumped, absolutely frightened, knowing what was going to come. They would touch him, again, they would take off his clothes and hurt him, hurt him for hours, asking him to talk, but he couldn't talk, why were they making him, please stop....

“Lance?”

He couldn't breathe- he realised with horror, there was no more air in the room to breathe and he was going to die, right there and then, because he couldn't breathe and his hands were shaking badly and his chest hurt because his heart was going to fast, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe...

“Lance, buddy, are you all right?”

And someone was coming, and they were closer, too closer, can't you see that I'm dying here and now you want to touch me... No, please...

“Don't... touch me...” He managed to croak out, in a small strangled voice.

Shiro backed off, feeling more concerned than ever. What was going on with Lance? He'd never reacted this badly to something as small as a touch in the back, and they had never seen him get attacks like these. Odd.

“Ok, Lance, I won't touch you. Just try to take deep breaths, okay? In and out, looong and deep. You think you can do that?”

Lance tried to focus on Shiro's kind eyes, on his calm voice, tried to as he instructed. Don't think about anything else, just look at those familiar eyes, focus on them, forget the rest of the world and try to breathe. The rest of the world may be melting around him, but those eyes were there. And no one was touching him.

When the attack passed and Lance was more aware of his surroundings, he looked around embarrassed, and ran off, not saying a word. Everyone was frozen not knowing what to make of what just happened.

“....What?”

“Did Lance have problems with being touched before?” Shiro asked, trying to understand why this was happening now.

“No, he didn't!” Hunk said, his face mask and confusion and concern. “We used to hug for everything, mess each other's hair... He was really big on, you know the touching kind of affection. I don't get this.”

“Maybe something happened to him while he was prisoner?” Keith suggested. He had been injured when they found him, maybe there was more to the story that Lance had told.

“I'll give him some time to calm down, then try to get to tell us.” Shiro said. Right now, he would only make the kid more embarrassed and sad. But he had to check that he was okay, and get enough info so that they wouldn't upset him like this again.

Lance was back in the hangars, with his back in blue, trying to find some comfort. But it was... difficult. How would he ever find comfort if he couldn't get a pat on the back or a nice hug without freaking out? Was he destined to be like this forever? Miserable... and lonely? How could he fix this? He wanted people's warmth, but he couldn't bear their touch anymore... He was lost and depressed and upset that _that_ had happened in front of everyone.

It was tough. He sighed, and Blue did something similar to a moan. She didn't like when Lance was sad and she couldn't do anything about it.

“It's all right, Blue. I'm fine. I always am.”

“No, you're not.” Shiro's voice came from the entrance. “You scared back there. Can you tell me something about what happened? Like why it happened?”

“I'm sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. We're all human, and when we go through it leaves scars – sometimes in our body, sometimes in our head. You don't have to apologise for what you've been through, you don't have to apologise for your pain. Just... let us help you. Is it because of what happened while you were prisoner?”

“Nothing too terrible happened, you know – no super horrid torture, no naked anything. But they kept touching me so much, and I couldn't do anything... And everytime they touched me, they hurt. I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't eat, I couldn't hurt. And I tried not to cry, you know, look strong... But now every time someone touches me.. I feel like it's gonna be them, and I don't want to be hurt anymore....”

The word-vomit ended, and Lance was afraid to look up, see the judgement in Shiro's eyes... he was a paladin of Voltron, he should be stronger than this... people were depending on his strength. But when he did look up, there was no judgement, only kindness and understanding.

“I'm sorry you had to go through that – Im sorry we didn't get sooner, and am especially sorry that it still haunts you, that it affects your life. But we'll find way to work through it, and you'll manage – in the meantime, we're here for you- If you don't want to tell the others is ok, but you should know that they worry about you, and that they wouldn't think less of you for this. You've proved your strength many times, Lance. You're allowed to have flaws.”

Lance smiled.

“...Thanks. And thank you for helping me when I freaked out.”

“Anytime kid, anytime.”

There was a companionable silence and then Shiro had an idea.

“I know a hug is probably not the best idea, but what about music? A nice, soothing lullaby?”

“I'd like that.”

“I don't know any from your land, sadly, but I could sing something from when I was a kid.”

Lance hummed in agreement, and Shiro sang, softly, slowly, a nice time honored song.

A moment of peace, in a life of constant fighting.

 


	8. Mute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Royalbluepaladin requested Lance losing one of his senses and I thought, what if I pull a Loki or our resident chatty guy?? Enjoy, and do tell me what you thought

The boy wouldn't stop talking, so they shut him up for good. And rejoiced in it.

Some especially vicious galra soldiers had taken Lance prisoner, and tried torturing him for information. But the boy would speak only gibberish, laugh at them, speak in languages they didn't understand, and then laugh at himself and his predicament. He said so many thing, he commented on his captors and their ship, commented on his cell, commented on their preferred methods of torture.

He just talked so much, but it was fairly clear that he wasn't going to give any important information about his team mates, or about Voltron. The paladin cared about his team mates too much to betray them like that and if he did give them some intel it was going to all lies to make them waste time, but they could still use the kid to ransom him, or to get in the good graces of their superiors of they screwed up. (Yeah, we lost a cargo ship, but did you know we captured a whole paladin of Voltron???)

They still should have their fun with they guy, tho. That boy had bothered them for the better part of last week with his constant chatter, and he had to pay for annoying them and for being useless in giving information. He had to pay, all right, and they had just the thing to both keep him quiet and make him pay. Make him suffer.

When his captors sedated him and then came at Lance with a huge needle and some shiny unbreakable space thread he hadn't known what to expect to expect. Not even in his wildest nightmares would he have concocted an scenario in which he was sedated enough not to be able to fight, but not so much that he couldn't feel the pain from someone STITCHING HIS LIPS SHUT with no anesthesia. It was too horrid a thought to even entertain, and now he was going to live it.

The other man held him down as the meanest guy use the needle to.... it was too painful, but he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything, just feek the cold metal ravaging his lips and binding them together in a fuzzy cloud of white hot pain... His mouth tates like blood and he was in so much pain... He only wished to pass out but wouldn', no he was awake to feel that needle and that thread going all through his mouth... Closing it for good.

Lance sobbed, in a pain that couldn't be described, and trough the haze of his tears he saw his torturers.

“Suffer, little loud boy. This is what happens when you don't shut up, this is what happens when you speak too much.”

“Now you'll be quiet. Always.”

“Suffer little loud boy. Beg us to let you talk – we won't. This punishment will only end when you die.”

The tears from his eyes got in the stitches of his mouth and burned. But he couldn't scream, he could hadly moan. He felt powerless, useless, not even a shadow of a person. A hollow shell of someone, a mass of flesh only there to be hurt. They left him with no voice, no face, no nothing. There was no Lance anymore. Just something that used to be Lance.

The whole situation was horrible, but he was too weak and in too much pain to be able to overpower them. Every time he tried to escape he was caught, and punished again. Eventually, he gave up trying and made himself a ball in the corner of a cell. Some other he would have tried to be more dignified, but who cared? Since he couldn't talk, he was invisible.

He'd been left to die while in horrible agony, abandoned, forgotten, an insignificant boy with thread in his mouth. He hoped for the others, for some dashing rescue mission, imagined their faces, their voices, imagined them comforting him, giving him water, giving him water, imagined all the things he would say when they got that thing off his mouth... It brought him some comfort, but it was very short lived.

Nobody was coming, and his captors had done something to him so that he wouldn't die of dehydration. It still felt like he was dying, but every day he woke up, hungry, thristy, with a million words in his head, but not even being able to call for his mama... He probably wouldn't see her again, but that was good. How would she bear of this monster her son had become? How could he give her a good night kiss with his mouth full of metal?

His throat was dry, his eyes were heavy. The pain was duller now, but it was still practically the only thing he could feel. Thrown in his cell, Lance was fading, a bit more each day. Without his voice, he'd lost all of himself. Invisible, unusable, abandoned and forgotten. Forever forgotten.

–

Lance had been missing for a while, and at first they looked for him, but after sometime there was an emergency, and they had enough paladins to form Voltron, so they stopped looking. Lance could be at any place on the universe, and they couldn't lose all that time and resources looking for him, when whole planets were suffering at the hands of their enemies.

Hunk mentioned looking for Lance every time they had a half a second of free time and and he and Pidge were conducting a deep detailed investigation onto where Lance may be, but there was no sign of him, no one boasting about having a Voltron paladin, not even sighting of someone fitting his description. It was all dead ends, nothing ever led them to anywhere Lance may have been taken.

Until that one mission, when they had been assigned to take down one of the Galra's most violent generals. Hunk had an odd feeling, something wasn't quite right... So, when they finished, as the others were putting the bad guys in cells he asked Pidge to come with him to the underground floor, just in case they could find something valuable there.

And there was a cell... With someone with blue clothes, someone tall and lanky....

“No, it can't be.” Pidge whispered under her breath, absent-mindedly unlocking the cell and coming in, to get a closer look to figure hunched in the corner. She got closer, turned the boy laying there.

“NO!” She could hardly look the vision there too gruesome. But she had to, she needed to know if he was still alive... Hunk was vomiting behind her, but as he finished, still shaking he came to her.

“Pidge...”

“He's still alive!”

“Oh, god, Lance...”

Hunk took him in his arms and they ran back to the others, asked for the best medical care facilities in the quadrant (pods could do much, but not the surgery required to remove all of... _that_ from his mouth) and just hoped for the best, while feeling like the worst people in the entire universe who had left their friend to live through such torture. It was heartbreaking, knowing that every day Lance had been there, unable to drink, eat, or even speak, silenced and abandoned in some underground cell, getting worse and worse every single day.

The medics told them that Lance had been severely dehydrated, lost over twenty pounds and had a infection for the terrible mouth-sewing surgery. Still, he was supposed to make a full recovery, and all of the team was grateful for that. Things hadn't been the same without him, everything was too... quiet.

When he awoke again, he was scared, Scared at this place, scared at the whiteness of this place, scared at all this light, all this people...

“Lance, it's just us. We found you, buddy.”

He touched his mouth and it was free. He almost smiled.

“Get him some water.”

The water was like a liquid miracle and he drank two whole glasses, ignoring the voices saying not to take too much at once.

“You can talk now, Lance. You are among friends.”

And he wanted to talk, but every time he tried he saw them, heard them.

_People who talk too much have to be punished. People who talk too much have to be silenced.. If you speak one more time, you obnoxious annoying little shit_

… _.suffer little loud boy_

_Suffer little loud boy_

_SUFFER LITTLE LOUD BOY_

The words died in his mouth. He couldn't talk, or they would hurt him. They would be annoyed and punish him. No matter how much he told himself that this was different people, that they let him talk....

_Suffer little loud boy_

_We have your voice.... forever._

 


	9. Stabbed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by N and Honey. Allura is always so cool and level headed, I decided I wanted her to freak out. Enjoy!!

Something woke Allura up violently, while she was in the middle of a dream. She was startled awake, by a feeling not quite her own. Odd. It was a feeling of dread, of urgency, of horror. For a while she didn't understand why she was feeling like that; she'd been dreaming a pleasant dream about a new Altea, complete with friends, milkshakes and and tales of the defenders of the universe. Why would she feel like this? Why so suddenly feel so terribly wrong?

After a while, she discovered what it was, who was making her feel this way. It was the blue lion that felt like this and decided to wake her up so that she could do something, fix the situation. It was a warning sign, telling her that something was awfully wrong in her ship. If only she what it was. She got up, determined to make it right, as soon as possible. Fully awake now, she put some shoes on, got a weapon and went out of her room.

The ship was quiet and dark: on the surface, nothing seemed to be wrong. The paladins were probably sleeping, as was Coran. But walking a bit more... Somebody was there in the control room, trying to bypass the security systems (and failing, fortunately). It was Galra soldiers, because of course it was going to be that. The bad news was that they were three and she was only one. The good news was that they didn't know she was there.

She had the element of surprise and she had years of training from Altea's royal trainers. With some help from the mice, she managed to neutralize them and get them back to their pod, putting a void in the coordinates of their ships. Arrividerci, Galra. Well, all is well that ends well.

Still, even after having ejected those soldiers from the castle Blue's cries for help were still in full force, maybe even worse now. The lion was begging, beseeching the Princess to find some help, to do something before it was too late. Allura didn't understand, the danger was gone, she had fixed the problem. Why would she need any help? Why wake the others when the situation had been dealt with? What was it that needed fixing?

That was when she saw it, one of the soldiers daggers, on the floor, dropped after her attack. It was covered in blood. A lot of red blood – which made no sense: she'd stunned the soldiers and she hadn't been hurt. No blood had been drawn. Which meant this was someone else's blood, drawn before she had arrived.

And then she understood, everything clicked, and a single word left her lips.

“...Lance.”

**

Lance had heard an odd noise in the middle of the night, and went to check who it was. How many times had he told Pidge not to stay up all night? He knew she was a night owl, but she was still growing up, and not getting enough sleep could be for health, and for the head and for many things. And besides, they didn't know when the next crisis would strike, they needed to get all the sleep they could when they could.

But he wouldn't get any until he told her to go back to bed, because he got worried, so he got out of his room, still in his pyjamas, but sleepyness covering all of him.

“Pidge? Is that you?”

It wasn't Pidge.

It was a Galra soldier that put one of his hands on Lance's mouth to quiet him, and then proceeded to stab him while he couldn't scream. There was a knife on his stomach, on his side, on his chest, and again and again. Eventually, Lance stopped struggling, feeling all of that blood leaving him, the pain becoming too much. The soldier carefully left him on the floor, so he wouldn't make too much noise, and walked away.

Lance was face down on the floor, blood pooling under him. He tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn't hold him. Each and every wound hurt, and he knew he was becoming too weak, too light headed way too fast. No, he couldn't leave so soon. Not without warning the others that there enemies in the ship. What if they went after his friends? He couldn't have that.

He managed to sit up, but couldn't stand, no matter how much he tried. His vision was becoming blurry, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He put a finger in one of his stab wounds, hoping that the pain would keep him awake. He didn't matter, the nine holes in his body didn't matter. What mattered was keeping the others safe, letting them know.

The blood was everywhere, in his hands in his legs and feet, in every inch of his blue pyjamas. He was drenched in his blood, but he couldn't... couldn't pass out yet. He tried to scream, tried to warn the others with his voice at least, but the only managed to gurgle and cough up some blood. That hurt like hell, and drained the last of his strength. A single tear fell from his eye as he lost consciousness. Alone, in the dark, bleeding out.

**

That was how Allura found him, and for a moment she was frozen, too deep in shock. This... this was too much to handle.

Lance was so pale, so still, so... lifeless. And there was so much blood, oh god there was blood everywhere: there was blood from where he'd come, there was blood pooling under him, there was blood dripping down his mouth.... In that moment Allura had a momentary freak out. Because this was just a paladin of Voltron a mighty defender of the universe.

This was just a boy in his pyjamas, too young to being living such horrors, vulnerable, small, hurt. She had been trained her whole life for war and important decisions, but Lance... He'd been a sweet boy with big dreams that had wanted to help, and somehow found himself in the middle of an intergalactic war, millions of galaxies away from his home. Damn, he was little more than a child, just a young boy.

A boy dying from blood loss in his pyjamas. It was horrible to even contemplate. So she wouldn't.

“Coraaaaaaaaaaaaaan!”

They had to get Lance to the infirmary, but Allura was scared that moving him too much would accelerate the blood loss – he looked like he had lost too much already. Should she bandage his wounds first? Or was it more important to get to him to the healing pods? She tried to get to wake up patting his cheeks (for peace of mind, mostly) but got no response. Now her hands were stained with his blood, too.

_Please, stop bleeding. Please, Lance, come back, wake up._

She started putting pressure on the wounds to stop the bleeds, hoping that maybe this would wake him. But there too many (nine stab wounds, nine! No wonder Blue had been so desperate!) and he kept bleeding and not waking up and she was covered in his blood and oh god, he didn't deserve this, he was just a sweet boy who always tried to make things easier for them, always fought valiantly, always tried to lift the spirits of people when they were sad... And she was covered in his blood, blood that was his life force, currently coming down his mouth, that blood shouldn't be there, oh god....

“Princess, allow me.”

Coran, thank the universe. He took the boy in his arms and sprinted towards the infirmary.

By the time Allura got there, Lance had already been put in one of those healing pod suits, and Coran was giving the necessary instructions to the machine so that it would heal the boy completely. It was good, she supposed, but Lance was still too still, too pale, too badly hurt. It had been too close a call – he was already half dead by the time he got the help he needed, she realised, looking at his youthful face from the other side of the pod.

They nearly lost him. Nearly lost all that cheering and bad jokes, all that life force, nearly lost one of their dearest friends, one of the main defenders of the universe. And Allura realised that Lance would continue to get hurt while this war lasted, especially given his tendency to put himself in the line of fire when someone else was in danger.

She took the discarded bloodied pyjamas, hugged them and cried.

Hurting Lance should be a crime, shouldn't be.

And yet, it kept happening.

 


	10. Fever

“What’s wrong with Lance?”

Lance made an indignant huff. 

“Nothing’s wrong with Lance, thank you very much, he can hear you perfectly!”

“You look… off, man.” Hunk said, concerned. “Did you sleep all right?”

“I’m perectly fine, I just didn’t have time to shower, because apparently this was a life or death situation, and if it is, then why the hell are we discussing my appearance.”

“He’s right.” Shiro said. “We have more important things to talk about. “We need to be perfect today - the lives of the millions of inhabitants of these planets depend on us. So no joking around, no going off the plan. We need to pull this off flawlessly.”

And so they did, for once. Lance ignored his splitting headache, how cold he suddenly felt and his team mates’ hurtful comments. What was wrong with him, what was wrong with them, being such big meanies. Not everyone could be perfect-hair prince Lotor, could they? Some people had naturally unruly locks, thanks you very much, but it was part of his vivacious and lively spirit. Or something. 

He barely smiled at Allura’s “good job” when they came back, and when directly to his bed, where he collapsed without even taking his armour off. Why was he so tired? He was supposed to be young, and trained, he was supposed to be stronger, able to take it all. But he felt absolutely drained and achy and old and sleepy after one lousy mission that had gone without a hitch. 

Maybe the others were right and something was wrong with him, maybe he wouldn’t be able to live up to the team’s standards, maybe it was all going to be too much and he wouldn’t be to keep up… Lance sighed and then sighed again. He knew he had to sit up, at least take the armour off, but he felt he didn’t have the strength even for that. 

After what felt like millions of hours whimpering in his bed, he managed to sit up and take it off. He even managed to find his pyjamas and bury himself in the blankets. Yeah, he would stay there, shivering forever. Who cared about what time of day it was, who cared about all the meals he’d missed. 

Well, apparently, some of his team mates cared. 

“Hey, hey! We brought you some good, since you didn’t come down to dinner.”

It was Hunk and Pidge, looking cautious but smiling. 

“I’m not hungry” Lance’s voice came from under the blankets, muffled. 

“You have to eat something, buddy.” Hunk said. “You haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“Yeah, you really should be hungry by now.”

Her and Hunk sat by the bed of their team mate and sought him from under the blankets. 

“Gosh, you’re burning up, Lance!” Pidge said, surprised at his temperature. Had he been running this fever when they were out in the mission too? 

“Are you saying that I’m hot?” Lance said, with one of his trademark grins despite his odd flush and the otherwise unhealthy pallor on him. 

“Yeah, you’re too hot!”

“Hot damn.” Hunk said, without thinking. Pidge shot him a dirty look. “Sorry, force of habit. But Pidge is right, Lance, you’re sick. If you don’t want to go to a pod, at least let us look after you?”

Lance was conflicted. On the one hand, he didn’t want to look weak and vulnerable in front of his team mates. How could he aspire to be a leader if he got sick at the drop of a hat? How would they respect him more if they saw him whining and shivering? It didn’t feel like something the more leader-ous serious paladins would do. 

But on the other hand, he did feel like crap, after being too cold for some time now he was boiling and since he didn’t have any family around, he could use some friendly pampering. 

“Fiiiiine.”

They played video games for a while, and when Lance’s fever got too high, they put cold wet cloths in his brow, shushed him when he had nightmares. Hunk and Pidge stayed there, by his side, until they made sure that nothing was wrong with Lance. 


	11. Torture

It was truly torture.

After some rounds with blowtorches and knives and breaking bones, the woman realised that she wasn't going to get anything from Lance, that she was not going to get any of the information she wanted. Not with simple violence, no matter how horrid and intense it was. She needed to do something different.

The torturer had to admit that the boy was something else. All throughout the abuse he'd subjected her to, he'd stood proud, defiant, whole and unerringly loyal to his friends. Lance would rather die than say anything, and they both knew that – but it wasn't going to happen. A dead Lance was absolutely useless to the woman, who would get no info from a corpse. So he couldn't die.

So she did the only things that would work, and gave him a drug that forced him to tell the truth. This way he would be chemically forced to deliver the information she so wanted, and no matter how much he wanted to not say anything, he wouldn't be able to spit out the truth. Or at least that was what she thought would happen, what had always happened.

But the boy had a very strong will and was struggling against the effect of the drug. Biting his tongue, closing his mouth screaming and biting his lips. Closing his eyes and scrunching his face, now contorted in pain, all to try and avoid the unavoidable.

She had to hand it to him- the boy was lasting longer than anyone else she'd used this technique on, despite him being younger and slimmer but most of the other interrogated people. It normally worked faster and better on thin people but this boy... He was certainly determined. Every time she asked him something he would go read, try to free his hand, close his fists, moan, scream "NO!"...

"Stop fighting it, boy. You will tell me what I am asking whether you want it or not. Spare yourself anymore suffering and just come clean. Where are they?"

"Never!"

Lance screamed and fought against himself, but it was getting harder and harder. Not even in his worst nightmares he thought he would find himself in such a terrible situation, so close to giving his friends up without the possibility of you know, at least dying to protect them. He fought once and again and again against himself and the situation, but he knew that he wouldn't last much longer.

The woman was enjoying herself. It was cruel, she knew, but a torturer couldn't do her job properly without a touch a cruelty.

"Again, tell me where they are!"

"They are... no... please, I can't!"

Knowing that if she asked again he would tell her, Lance gathered what little strength he had left to do one last thing that would help him not give up his friends. He forgot all the horror, all his injuries, all his broken bones, all the blood on the floor. Forgot it all. Just do this one last thing, and do it properly. You can do it.

He threw himself, chair and all against the wall in front of him, got fast and his his head with all his might. Then he fell on the floor, char and all, and for a horrible second he worried that he wouldn't pass out, that his one chance at being free maybe had been wasted for nothing, that he got himself a concussion and still hadn't passed out like wanted, no, like he absolutely needed to.

But then the woman on top of him started becoming blurry, and her voice seemed to be very far away... Good... Probably by the time he woke up the effect of the serum would have worn out... This was... good.

Lance, tied to a chair, covered in bruises, fresh and dried blood, with much internal and external damage to him, manage to draw a smile. Because he could be tortured in all the different ways on Earth, but he would never EVER hurt someone he cared about willingly. They were more important than anything else, their mission, their safety, their lives. He didn't know what would happen to him, and he didn't care all that much. He just hoped that the woman wouldn't manage to wake him up again.

When he did wake up, it was to Shiro and Hunk's concerned faces.

"You're ok?"

"Us?" Hunk said, horrified."Lance, you've been tortured! And you're worried about us?"

"We're ok." Shiro said, and he started getting Lance up from the floor, softly and carefully.

"Good."

Lance smiled as he passed out again. The torture was over.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> If you liked, tell me so via comments or kudos?? *winky face*


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